


Preventive Medicine

by graceandfire



Series: Brightness Burns [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Mirror Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graceandfire/pseuds/graceandfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are worse things out there than James T. Kirk</p><p>***************</p><p>Leonard knows the instant Kirk walks into Sickbay.  It’s partly the subtle tensing of his staff and patients at the appearance of the ship’s biggest predator but it’s personal too.  Leonard guesses he’s been *%@#% too many times by the other man and Kirk’s on his radar for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preventive Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, so, psychological non-con, references to physical non-con, general MU darkness, etc. etc.

Leonard knows the instant Kirk walks into Sickbay.  It’s partly the subtle tensing of his staff and patients at the appearance of the ship’s biggest predator but it’s personal too.  Leonard guesses he’s been fucked too many times by the other man and Kirk’s on his radar for good.  The fine hairs on the back of his neck are prickling and—Leonard will suffer bodily injury rather than admit this aloud—he’s immediately half hard.  It’s not his goddamn fault his dick has been at the beck and call of Kirk for the better part of a year now and is used to the man’s regular, ruthless attentions.   
  
He continues to treat Crewman Kamal’s training injury, refusing to look up and acknowledge the larger than life figure heading his way.  Kirk will make his wishes known soon enough.  Leonard notes with professional satisfaction that while Kamal’s knife wound is deep, it's clean, and the dermal regenerator is sealing it nicely.  Kamal himself is hunching down, somewhat ridiculously trying to make his burly six foot five frame invisible as Kirk approaches the treatment bed.  
  
Leonard finally looks up with a scowl as Kirk reaches them.  “Captain?”   
  
He keeps his sarcasm to a minimum.  Kirk makes no secret of enjoying Leonard’s snarls and attitude—which is a good thing for Leonard’s continued survival since damned if he can completely change his ways—but there’s a direct correlation to the number of other people in the room and the amount of disrespect Leonard can get away with.  It’s a lesson he learned early and thoroughly, the memory permanently seared into his psyche.   
  
It had been almost a month after Kirk had taken over as captain of the Enterprise and Leonard’s new job duties as Kirk’s favorite fuck toy had shown no signs of stopping.  Resentment and bitterness had seethed inside of Leonard, pushing him past survival instincts in a setting with too many witnesses for Kirk to let insubordination go, even if he’d been feeling generous.  
  
If Leonard had known the consequences he would have suppressed the snarled, “You can go to goddamned _hell_ ” that were the last words he would utter for the next five days.  The captain’s face had gone stone cold and, at a snapped order to Spock, Leonard had found himself held in the unbreakable, impersonal hold of the ship’s first officer.  Kirk, nothing playful about him, had coolly stated that since his chief physician’s mouth was clearly dangerous to his continued health he’d help him learn a little self control.  He’d then proceeded to force a ball gag into Leonard’s mouth, fusing the ends together with a laser tool.  
  
It had stayed there for five long days and nights, a maddeningly frustrating and humiliatingly effective form of bondage.  
  
His attempts to hide in Sickbay or his quarters were countermanded by Kirk who cheerfully ‘requested’ Leonard’s company in the mess hall where Kirk kept up one sided conversations, eating his meals with relish as Leonard sat across from him in glowering silence, sucking back the drool engendered by the smells of the food and trying to ignore the growling demands of his stomach.  The nutrients Leonard supplied his body with intravenously in Sickbay kept him relatively healthy but weren't enough to keep pounds from melting off his large frame over the course of the five days.  
  
Kirk, who rarely used physical restraints on him—preferring the enjoyment of compelling cooperation in more subtle ways—tied him down that first night, playful mood back in full force as he spread Leonard open, teasing him to the edge over and over again, using tongue, teeth and fingers as he licked and sucked his way up and down Leonard’s tensed and shuddering frame while Leonard choked, raged and begged behind the gag, bucking up against his restraints in useless rebellion.  Pulling his mouth off of Leonard’s dick yet again, Kirk had pointed out in an oh-so-reasonable voice that if McCoy didn’t have that pesky gag in his mouth he’d be able to tell his captain when he’d had enough and wanted to come.  It had been a very long night.  
  
The hell of it was that Leonard had the tools in Sickbay to remove the damn thing; a laser scalpel on the right setting would have sliced through the bindings like butter but he knew that whatever happened to him after would be infinitely worse—although by the third day he was almost willing to chance it.  Leonard hadn’t realized until it was taken away just how much he relied on his ability to communicate; to argue, to yell, to _talk._    
  
In the end he would have begged if he’d had a voice.   
  
It was five days before Kirk called him to the bridge and cut through the bindings in front of the others.  The captain had smirked as the hated, _hated_ ball gag had been pulled out, asking if Leonard had anything to say.  Leonard hadn’t even been able to make a sound other than harsh choking gasps as he worked his aching mouth and jaw, finally shaking his head and, when Kirk had merely raised an eyebrow, waiting, managed to rasp out a “No, Captain.”  
  
The lesson had sunk deep and the memory of that goddamn gag was enough to curb Leonard’s tongue for a good two weeks before he let slip a curse at Kirk one night in the man’s quarters.  Leonard had flinched back, unable to keep the hot licks of panic from showing at the thought of the ball and gag being forced into him again.  The refrains of sorrysorry _sorry_ and fuckyoufuckyou _fuckyou_ warred with each other until with a resigned despair Leonard heard a defiant snarl and realized it was coming from him.  It had taken a long time for his heart rate to return to normal after Kirk had just laughed, blue eyes shining with mirth as he smirked, “That actually took longer than I thought.”   
  
But, yeah, Leonard thinks as he gives his attention to the captain now.  He knows _exactly_ how much back talk he can get away with.  
  
“Doctor.”   Kirk shoots an appraising glance at Kamal’s injury but quickly switches his attention back to Leonard.  “A moment of your time.”  With that he turns around and heads for Leonard’s office, not looking back.  
  
With a muttered curse Leonard finishes up the seal.  “Try not to get stabbed in the next 48 hours,” he growls at Kamal who nods and escapes gratefully while McCoy heads after Kirk, shutting the door behind him because if Kirk isn’t hassling him in public he’s either in the mood for a private fuck or he’s got confidential actual medical business to attend to.  
  
Apparently it’s the latter because Kirk’s expression is serious as McCoy stands in front of him, hands crossed, automatic scowl in place.  
  
Kirk gets right to the point.  “I need a virus, miserable symptoms, non-treatable but non-lethal, highly contagious through exchange of bodily fluids but not by air.  It should have a rapid incubation period and a relatively short recovery time—say thirty to forty-eight hours.”  
  
Leonard blinks at Kirk.  “That’s pretty damn specific.”  
  
Kirk gives him an impatient nod.  “Do you have something that fits the bill?”  
  
Rubbing a hand over his jaw in consideration, Leonard does a quick mental inventory of viruses he can replicate.  “Yeah, I can get you the Tolban Virus.  Nasty little short-term bug that’s resistant to treatment but recovery’s quick and there’s no lasting damage.”  
  
“Symptoms?”  
  
McCoy rattles off the list.  “Nausea, vomiting, fever, chills, blue spots on the skin that itch like the devil.”  
  
Kirk hesitates briefly—an odd enough occurrence that Leonard notes it—and then nods with his customary decisiveness.  “Make up a couple doses for me confidentially.  I want you to take care of it.  No one else.”  
  
Leonard shrugs, fighting down the urge to ask what the hell this is about.  “You’re the captain.”  
  
This earns him a wicked grin from Kirk.  “I fucking am, aren’t I?”  His expression turns serious again.  “I’ll stop back at 2100 for it.”  
  
Leonard answers with a grunt and a grumble.  “Right, because I don’t have anything better to do today with physicals in progress and three counts of the Pythian Flu and…” he stops as Kirk’s grin reappears, the other man leaning back against Leonard’s desk, legs spreading in a deliberately provocative pose.  Hell, everything Kirk does is deliberately provocative in one way or another.  
  
Kirk smirks at him and gestures, clearly conveying _‘if you’ve got time to grumble you’ve got time to blow me.’_  
  
Two minutes later, as he glares up at Kirk from his position on his knees, Leonard thinks to himself that one of these days he’s going to learn to keep his goddamn mouth shut.  
  
It’s a long day because he really _does_ have physicals to update and a treatable flu bug floating around and two cases of VD on top of that, not to mention brewing Kirk’s damn virus, so he’s grumpier than usual when Kirk returns to Sickbay at 2118; punctuality not really being his thing.  The patients have been cleared out and there’s just one nurse on duty but Kirk leads him into the privacy of his office anyway where Leonard hands over the hypospray with a grunt.  “Here’s your poison pill.  Have fun making someone very unhappy.”  
  
Kirk takes the hypo and examines it with mild curiosity, holding it loosely in one hand as he looks over at Leonard.   
  
“Admiral Galdren’s arriving on board tomorrow at 1100 for a visit,” Kirk offers in a sudden change of topic.  “He’s traveling on the Cerberus to inspect the Carthage Space Station and since the Enterprise will be within distance of the Cerberus’s route he’s decided to drop by and say hello.”  
  
Bones lifts a skeptical eyebrow.  “So you’re planning to inject an admiral with the Tolban Virus?”  That’s damned bold even for Kirk.  
  
Kirk’s mouth quirks up in a half smile.  “Not exactly.”  
  
The soft hushing sound of the hyprospray is automatically noted as Leonard feels the sting of it in his neck and he looks at Kirk, dumbfounded more than anything—because what the _hell—_ with rage quickly rising to a close second.   
  
“You _bastard_ ,” Leonard growls helplessly, face turning red with anger as he considers the hell his next couple days are going to be.  He’s not going to ask Kirk why, whether he’s somehow pissed the man off, or Kirk’s just being a sadist, or _what_.  He just fucking isn’t going to ask.  
  
Kirk gives an almost apologetic shrug and tells him anyway.  “The admiral has spies on my ship.  I know who they are of course,” his tone is dismissive.  “They’ll have told him that you’re my favorite fuck and he’ll ask for you because of that.”  His smile turns wry with a hint of something serious in his eyes.  “You might not believe this but I’m actually doing you a favor.  Consider it preventive medicine.”  
  
 _Favor_ is sure the fuck not what Leonard would call it as, three hours later he’s vomiting up what feels like the last of his stomach lining.  He’s also shivering, aching and watching blue spots slowly start to decorate his flushed skin.  They’re already starting to itch like fire.  Leonard remembers calmly reciting the symptoms to Kirk earlier that day and decides that he hates the _entire goddamn galaxy_.  
  
He tries to distract himself by planning out all the very many ways he can make Kirk die of horribly, horribly painful diseases.  _Much_ worse than this virus—although right now it feels like nothing _can_ be worse than this fucking virus.  But, yeah, _horribly painful_ and _humiliating_ ways to die await James fucking Tiberius Kirk.  Leonard will be executed for it in some god awful way but it will sure as hell be _worth_ it.  
  
At some point during the next—just as horrible—day Leonard vaguely realizes that Kirk is watching him through the window of the isolation unit accompanied by an older stranger.  He guesses this must be the infamous Admiral Galdren who has some connection to Leonard’s current state of complete misery.  Leonard meets the man’s gaze through the window and feels a chill that has nothing to do with the virus shudder through his body because there’s nothing in those eyes.  With Kirk at least there are emotions in those baby blues, even if it’s enjoyment at being a complete and total bastard.  Admiral Galdren’s eyes are dead, blank holes that hold no human emotions, only an impersonal curiousness that makes Leonard very thankful for the wall that separates them.   
  
The admiral stares in at Leonard for a long moment more until Leonard gives in to a coughing fit gratefully, thankful for the distraction of trying to hack his lungs out of his body.  When it finally subsides, Kirk and the admiral are gone and Leonard leans back weakly against the bed, thinking about relative fortune.  Before Kirk he’d never had to play the role of whore.  He’d been a man grown, a valuable trained physician, not to mention an acerbic bastard by the time he’d entered the Academy.  It was the young, weak ones who were forced to take protectors; the young, pretty ones who attracted the attentions of sexual predators; and the unskilled ones who weren’t considered valuable enough to be afforded any sort of protection.  Leonard had been lucky until Kirk.  It hadn’t really occurred to him that to some extent he was _still_ lucky.   
  
Because there are worse things out there than James Tiberius Kirk.  
  
Admiral Galdren's choice of entertainment for the night is a young, pretty yeoman by the name of Hughes.  Leonard wonders if it was coincidence that steered the yeoman into the admiral’s path.  He’s not really surprised when he pulls Hughes’ service record and sees that the young man pulled mediocre ratings in his last round of reviews.  Kirk has little use for mediocrity on his ship.   
  
Leonard is the one who puts the pieces of Hughes back together.  He runs a dermal regenerator over the whip marks, bruises and burns that range up and down the man's flesh in logical, methodical patterns.  He treats the tearing damage to the anus.  He cleans the abrasions at wrist and ankle showing where old fashioned rope rubbed into flesh in the frantic search for escape.   
  
He thinks about being tied naked and open and helpless before cold, dead eyes.   
  
He thinks Kirk’s preventive medicine was a damn small price to pay.


End file.
